


Cougar Is A Dirty Word Around Here Kiddo

by fannyvonfabulus



Series: Word Vomit [1]
Category: Does my own brain count as a fandom?
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, OC, OFC - Freeform, don't read it, no really, this is garbage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-12-24 06:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21095147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannyvonfabulus/pseuds/fannyvonfabulus
Summary: He's far too young and you really shouldn't.And yet, here we are.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I keep having inappropriate dreams about Tom, who is 16 years my junior, so i'm hoping that writing it will get it out of my system.
> 
> This fic has ZERO redeeming qualities.
> 
> Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

God, he’s just so fucking  _ keen _ , he’s impossible. He’s also  _ way _ too young, and it’s totally inappropriate but you can feel your resolve being chipped away with every doe eyed look in your direction, every brush of fingertips when you hand over his coffee and change. You’ll be going about your business and he’ll suddenly pop into your thoughts, all floppy brunette hair and big, chocolate eyes. Its fucking infuriating is what it is, and it makes you feel like a gross, pervy old woman. He’s 16 years younger than you.  _ SIXTEEN. _ He’s practically a child for fucks sake. Christ, in 6 months you’re turning 40. It’s all incredibly inappropriate and kinda icky and adorable and hot and…...and…….  ** _DAMMIT_ ** .

“Morning gorgeous!” You hear behind you and glancing at the clock, it’s bang on 7am and  _ of fucking course _ he’s the first customer in. He always is, the little shit. He’s figured out that the café doesn’t really get busy until the commuter rush starts at about 7.30am, which means that he knows it’s just you because it’s your café so it’s always you who opens up and gets everything set up for the day before the morning rush starts, and before Ben and Claire start their shifts. He’s sneaky like that. “How’s my favourite girl this morning?”

“Morning Kiddo,” You reply, not even bothering to turn around. He hates it when you call him that, and it helps you to remember just how big the age gap is. You can literally hear him pouting. 

“Mean. And to think that I was nice enough this morning to bring  _ your _ favourite girl with me for a visit,” he mumbles, and you turn at that. He’s still pouting at you, which is definitely  ** _not_ ** all kinds of adorable, but you don’t have time to think about that as you nearly have your legs knocked out from under you as his dog Tessa comes barrelling behind the counter.

“OH MY GOODNESS!!” You squeak, like you usually do whenever there’s a dog in your general vicinity, and immediately kneel down to have your face slobbered on as you scratch Tessa behind the ears. And out comes the stupid baby voice that you reserve for dogs and dogs only, because you may well be old and bitter about life, but dogs are just the  _ best _ . “Who’s my favourite doggo? So pretty,  _ you’re so pretty _ ! Such a good girl, how’ve you been bubba? Oh my goodness! OH. MY.  _ GOODNESS _ !”

“Wish you’d talk to me like that,” comes a grumble from the other side of the counter, and you smirk into Tessa’s neck.

“What? You want your belly rubbed too?” You say, and Tessa rolls over to show her belly as if to prove a point.

“Is that an offer?”

“Thomas…..” You sigh wearily, getting to your feet. You finally meet his eyes for the first time since he arrived, and he looks like you just kicked his dog rather than petting her like a loon.

“I know, I know…..” He grumbles back at you, pouting again and christ alive you really shouldn’t find it adorable. “I’m too young, blah, blah… but c’mon dinner? Just once? Please?”

“What have I told you every morning for the last…..forever?” You do your best to look stern, but you’re not sure you manage because Tessa is now licking the fingers of your hand that’s hanging by your side.

“No.”

“Exactly. I’ve told you before: i don’t fuck anyone who wasn’t born when Jurassic Park came out.” 

“ _ WOAH! _ Who said anything about fucking?!” Tom splutters, and you know you shouldn’t have dropped that particular F-bomb, but he’s currently the only other human in the café and you’re rather enjoying the blush he’s got going on. “DINNER! Just dinner, that’s all.”

“I’m not some sort of conquest y’know Thomas,” You frown at him, crossing your arms and trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. You’re pretty sure that this is just some guy shit that gets him brownie points for bagging a woman in her late thirties. “I’m not a bonus level you can brag about to your friends.” 

“I know,” Tom answered in a small voice, staring at his shoes. Looks like you’ve actually hurt his feelings this time. Whoops. “It’s not like that, i swear. I just….. I think you’re pretty great, ok? And you work too hard and I wanted to take you out for a change of scenery. Wine and dine you, y’know? Treat you like a queen. Would that really be so bad?”

Well, fuck.

“OK, so that was a bit mean,” You sigh. He’s giving you the kicked puppy face and its awful when it’s aimed at you, it really is. But you need him to understand. “But can you not see it from my perspective Tom? I’m 39, you’re 23, it’s….. squicky.” You raise a hand to stop him when you see him open his mouth to argue. “And I don’t want to hear the ‘ _ age is just a number _ ’ argument from you again. I’m just trying to make you understand how I’m feeling about it. Can you at least try?”

Tom looks like he’s mulling it over, chewing his bottom lip as he does which is… yeah ok, he needs to stop doing that immediately. 

“I understand.”

“Good.”

“But I’m still stupidly attracted to you,” The blush is back with avengence now and he can’t look you in the eye.

“Tom, seriously…”

“Wait, just listen,” He ploughs on, still not looking at you and now he’s fiddling with the zip on his jacket. “I still want to take you out. Just as friends, no funny business, i promise. You need a break, even for just an afternoon, just to get out of here for a few hours.” And how does he even know how many hours I’ve been working lately?! “We could go to the South Bank and mooch around the market or something, get candy floss and just watch the world go by.”

Sweet Odin, the boy is fucking adorable, and you are absolutely and completely fucked. It’s so hard against your better judgement what you’re about to say, but you hear yourself saying it anyway, like your brain-to-mouth filter just snapped and your mouth was like ‘ _ LOL! FUCK IT _ .’

“OK.”

Shit.

Tom’s head snaps up so fast that you’re pretty sure that he must have injured himself. And he looks so goddamn hopeful you want to scream.

“What…...really?  _ Really _ , really?”

“I’m already reconsidering.”

“NO! Please don’t!"

You’re clearly going to hell  _ a lot _ faster than previously anticipated but you know what? You’re finding it really,  _ really _ hard to care about that right now because those chocolate brown eyes are so happy, and the smile he’s giving you is like looking into the goddamn sun, a smile that  _ you _ put there on that stupid, adorable face. And so help you, you grin back like a fucking teenager because his smile is so infectious, you can’t help it. You can literally hear your resolve cracking.

“So... you gonna buy a coffee? Or just stand there and grin at me all day?” You smirk at him, mentally slapping yourself to try and get back to work. He’s distracting, which is bad. And Tess is licking your hand again, reminding you that she’s been a  _ very _ good girl, waiting next to you very patiently, and could she please have her puppuccino now please.

“Sorry! Yeah, yes please, sorry.”

“Stop apologising kiddo.”

* * * * * * * * * *

God, what the fuck is wrong with you?! You’re nearly 40 years old, but the 23 year old currently sat across the table from you is making you feel all kinds of things that yeah, you haven’t felt in a looooong time, but you shouldn’t be feeling them about someone so much younger than you. He looks at you like theres no-one else in the bar, like he wants to eat you alive then have you stay for breakfast. He’s making your stomach do that thing it used to do when your hormones were fucking up your life back in your teens and you wanted to hump literally anything that moved (and probably somethings that didn’t), and fucking hell it’s driving you to distraction. Everytime he looks at you from under his lashes and gives you that little smile, the butterflies in your chest flap a little harder. Everytime his fingers brush yours (completely deliberately, because he’s a little shit) when either of you reach for chip from the bowl between you, it’s like little electric shocks running up your arm. His forearms are sin personified if you’re honest, and when he’d rolled up the sleeves of his soft, grey Henley, you’d had to cough to cover up the little noise you’d made. Surely 23 year olds didn’t have arms like…..like  _ that _ ? And he keeps catching you looking at them too, which is all kinds of cringy because you are absolutely  _ not _ a lusty old woman thinking about what he could use those arms for. The worst (or best, depending on how you look at it) thing about the whole sordid situation is that he’s been making you laugh all afternoon. And not just any old laugh, oh no. He’s managed to let  _ that _ laugh out of the box. That completely uncontrollable, crying, snorting, utterly unattractive  _ so-very-you _ laugh that you try very hard not to show people because you look and sound like a braying donkey when it happens. The first time it happened a couple of hours ago, he’d seemed utterly entranced by it and now he won’t stop trying to get you to do it again. And again, and again….. Its now getting to the point where you’re seriously considering having to go and find some Tena Lady because fucking hell… The problem with someone being able to make you laugh that laugh is that to you, it’s instantly the hottest thing ever. Its proper  _ OMGyou’rehilariouspleasetakemyknickersoff _ hot and with every giggle snort he manages to wheedle out of you, your resolve disappears a little more.

Oh fuck it, who are you kidding? You’ve got it bad for this kid and now you don’t know what to do. You’re closer in age to his parents for fucks sake, but holy shit do you want to climb him like a tree. If he asks you for coffee later, you know it's not going to take much persuading to get you to say yes and now you’re all kinds of conflicted and horny.

Urgh.

“Hey, you OK?” Tom asks and you just know that with the messy jumble of thoughts going through your head right now probably just made you look constipated. He reaches out a hand and puts it over you own on the table, and you know you should pull away but you can’t quite bring yourself to do it. “You look constipated.”

“ _ WOW _ , ok ...,” Your eyes widen, but he’s not wrong.

“Sorry,” His voice has gone all small again and fucks sake woman, stop making him look at you like that. 

“You say that a lot,” You reply as he starts to rub circles on the side of your hand with his thumb. Such a tiny movement, but you hope he can’t feel how your pulse just picked up again. 

“Is it annoying you?”

“A bit, but not enough to be mad,” You go for soothing but aren’t sure it came off like that. It’s been such a good afternoon and you don’t want to hurt his feelings. It’s been so long since you got to just....be. And he’s just so easy to speak to, and so genuinely interested in whatever you’ve had to say. It’s been really nice actually, and you’re kinda sad that the day will have to end.

* * * * * * * * *

  
  


The pair of you start to walk back towards Waterloo to catch the train home, the pavement lit up by fairy lights wrapped around trees, and the lights of the city bouncing off the water of the Thames.

“I love this stupid city at night,” You dreamily before being startled as Tom slips his hand into yours. He shrugs when you look at him quizzically, but make no move to pull away.

“What? Friends can hold hands,” He says matter of factly and the last of your resolve just sort of…..fucks off. Surely it’s OK for you to have just a tiny bit of fun, right? He’s a consenting adult, he likes you, you think he’s adorable, why not just go with it? 

“Do you want to grab a coffee?” You ask, giving his hand a little squeeze and that smile as bright as the sun is back. “I mean, at my place?” And his smile changes to something more heated.

“Your place?”

“Yeah, my place. Where i live. And where I have coffee. My place.” Wow. Smooth.

“Um….how does fuck, yes please sound?”

“I can work with that.”

The journey back to your place is all kinds of hot and awkward and holy shit, what the fuck are you even doing?! You start off sitting opposite each other on the train, barely able to tear your eyes away from each other before he moves to sit next to you. It’s like being opposite was too far away from him. He takes your hand where you’re tapping your fingers nervously against you thigh and laces his fingers through yours. Managing to drag your eyes up from your joined hands, the look in his eyes sends a jolt skittering down your spine because holy shit, he’s not being shy about the way he’s looking at you. The fact that this hot 23 year old wants you is like the world’s biggest ego boost. 

That’s when you chicken out because you’re a fucking coward and panic because you haven’t had a crush like this since you were 17 and you’ve managed to completely forget how to act around anyone giving you this kind of attention.

You get back to your place and you’re trying to figure out how to let him down gently, but he seems to sense your change of heart anyway.

“We don’t have to have coffee,” Tom says gently, still with his hand in yours and you realise that you’ve walked all the way back from the train station hand in hand. Huh. “I had a really great afternoon.”

“Um, ok. You too. I mean, i had a great afternoon with you too,” You stutter and for fucks sake, what is wrong with you?! Find your big girl words. 

“Can ...can we do it again? Soon? Please?” He smiles at you, his eyes ever hopeful and dammit if he isn’t the sweetest thing on this planet. You really do want to invite him in, not wanting the day to end, but there’s still something stopping you from letting the last bit of your guard down. You don’t want to examine the reason why too closely, at least not yet.

“That would be nice actually,” Nice, really? That’s the best you can come up with? Idiot. But he’s giving you that smile again and your stomach does that flipping over thing and he’s still holding your hand. “I’ll let you know?”

“Gimme your phone,” He says and holds out the hand not still holding yours. He rolls his eyes a bit when you look at him quizzically, but you hand over your phone anyway. He unlocks it (you really should have a passcode), taps something into it then hands it back. “Now you have my number. Let me know when you’re free next and fancy another wander around our capital city.”

You pocket your phone and just stand at your front door awkwardly, not really sure how to end the day, but not wanting him to leave. He’s looking at you with what looks like longing in his eyes and the moment stretches on. You’re startled by how much you want to kiss him, and think about actually doing just that, but he breaks the moment by bringing your still joined hands up to his mouth and kissing the back of your hand.

“Goodnight gorgeous,” He says softly, his lips brushing the skin of your hand, and then he untangles your fingers, gives you one last heated look from under his lashes and then he’s gone, the evening swallowing him as he leaves you standing on your doorstep.

  
  


* * * * * * * * *

The next day you decide to take the day off for the first time in years. Your brain is currently fighting itself about how you’re feeling and you’re not ready to see Tom again quite so soon after last night. You’re so conflicted about the situation and frankly, you’re a bit of a mess. Your body is reacting to him like he’s the hottest thing  _ ever _ and wants to ride him hard and put him away wet, but your brain is still clinging on to whatever resolve you have left. Its exhausting. When you’d dragged yourself to bed last night, you’d stared at his number in your phone for ages, not wanting to message him because then he’d have your number. Then you remembered that he walked you home so he knows where you live so him having your number isn’t really a big deal. You drop him what you hope is a breezy message:

**>>** _ I had fun today, thanks x _

After you’d hit send, you’d instantly regretted the kiss at the end of your message, but when you’d checked your phone after you woke up this morning, he hadn’t replied. You’re alarmingly disappointed by that. Maybe you’d finally chased him off with your ridiculous awkwardness. You should feel relieved about that, you really should, but it’s not relief you feel. If you had to label it, what you’re feeling is sad. For all you warning him off and turning him down, you finally admit to yourself that you like this kid, like  _ really _ like him. And as much as you’ve tried to convince yourself that it’s wrong, and that he’s too young, the fact that he hasn’t text you back hurts.

Oh well.

* * * * * * * * *

Moping around your house in your pyjamas all day is, of course, the most mature way of dealing with how you’re feeling. So is eating an entire tub of Ben & Jerry’s in one sitting all by yourself and watching true crime documentaries on YouTube. You’re shuffling back to the kitchen to get yet more ice cream when your doorbell rings. Grumbling about having your moping interrupted just before you get to your freezer, you sigh and change direction to shuffle off towards the front door. You’ve got no idea who would be at your door at 4pm on a Sunday afternoon, but they’d better have a damn good reason.

It’s Tom.

Fuck.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“You weren’t at the café,” he says, like that explains everything.

“I took today off.”

“I was worried.”

“Why?” You ask, confused and excited and  _ oh god _ he looks so good. His hair is all ruffled and does genuinely look worried bless him. You’ve got no idea why, but it melts your heart a little bit more when it comes to him because it's been a long time since anyone ever worried about you.

“You never take a day off. You feeling OK?”

“I’m fine.”

“OK.”

An awkward silence settles between you and he stares at his feet. A breeze makes you realise that you’re still in your pyjamas and your hair is a mess and you’re pretty sure there’s an ice cream stain on your t-shirt, but he isn’t leaving.

“Why didn’t you reply to my text?” You ask before your brain-to-mouth filter can kick in and goddammit woman, you just  _ had _ to go there. But you still feel a bit hurt and you want to know.

“I fell asleep,” He mutters and he finally looks up at you. “And i went to the café this morning to apologise for not replying but you weren’t there.” God, he actually looks hurt.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask against your better judgement. “Its fucking freezing and i’m only wearing pyjamas.” You move to the side to let him in and his face lights up at the offer. He steps over the threshold and you close the front door against the late Autumn breeze and usher him down the hallway and into your lounge. “Make yourself at home. I need to go and put on some human clothes.”

“You don’t have to change,” He blurts out as you turn to dash upstairs. His flushes and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “I think your pjs are cute.” Oh good, his blush is just the cutest thing.

“I’ll be right back,” You smile at him because how can you not? “Kitchen is at the end of the hallway. Make yourself useful and put the kettle on.”

You take the stairs 2 at a time, heart hammering in your chest and fly into your bedroom. Your pyjamas end up across the other side of the room and you have a fleeting thought about putting underwear on before negging that idea and just throwing on a pair of jeans and a hoodie. Your hair is a mess and you take the hair tie out and try to run a brush through it before giving up and just leaving it loose. A quick dash through a mist of perfume and a dab of lip balm and you take a deep breath in a bid to calm down. You can hear Tom downstairs in the kitchen busying himself, and the click as the kettle turns off. You can’t hide upstairs forever so you close your eyes quickly to try and steady your breathing before stealing yourself and heading back downstairs. He’s standing in your kitchen looking at little lost and just staring at the kettle and 2 empty mugs, so you should probably rescue him.

“Tea or coffee?” You ask as you enter the room and he jumps a little, startling himself out of whatever thoughts he was having. You go over to where he’s standing and reach past him to open the cupboard above the kettle. The motion means that for a moment, your front brushes up against his chest and you hear him suck in a breath.

“Tea please,” He squeaks out, and that gets him a smirk from you because the blush is back. “No sugar.”

You turn your back on him and busy yourself with making tea. He hasn’t moved and he’s so close you can almost feel his body heat behind you. If he turned slightly to his right, there’s only an inch or two gap between you. You skin is tingling at the prospect of just leaning back a bit and having him suddenly pressed up against you, front to back.

“Fridge is behind you,” Your voice sounds breathy, and you need to get your goddamn butterflies under control because fucking hell, you are  _ weak _ for this kid. You feel the heat of his body leave as he turns to go and get the milk from the fridge behind him and you’re sad at the loss of his proximity. But then he’s back and he reaches around to your left to put the milk on the counter next to you, his chest pressing briefly against your shoulder before the contact is gone. Your skin feels like it’s on fire from the touch, even under your hoodie. There’s a moment where time seems to almost stop, everything feeling like it's in slow motion, the air in the room too thick and too hot. Then his hands are on your hips, resting there as he waits to see if this is OK. Your hands still what they’re doing with the tea and your breath quickens. It feels like his hands are scorching through your hoodie and you don’t know if you want to turn around to face him, or if you’ll lose your nerve if you see his face. The last threads of your resolve melt away as one of his thumbs finds its way to naked skin followed by his whole hand and  _ god _ , he’s so fucking  _ warm _ . Your body takes over then and sways backwards so the gap between you closes and you just give in. He slides his hand around to your stomach and splays his fingers out to cover as much of your skin as he can, sparks trailing after his touch and your head flops back against his shoulder all by itself. You cover the hand on your hip with one of your own and he laces your fingers together again, just like he had last night. You can feel his breath on your neck now, warm puffs of air, his cheek against the side of your head as you both just fall into the moment. You can feel the heat from his hand against your skin start to spread out through the rest of your body, and you know your skin must look flushed but you’re past caring at this point because god he smells so fucking good and he feels so solid behind you, he feels safe.

“Hey gorgeous,” He whispers into the side of your neck and you can’t help the shiver that rolls through your body as you feel his words ghost against your skin, the faintest brush of his lips.

“Hey yourself,” You breathe, finally allowing yourself to have this.

“Is this ok?” He asks, tentative but you thank him silently for asking.

“More than ok,” You admit a little shakily.

“Thank fuck for that,” And there's a soft chuckle in his voice. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since yesterday, and thought that just turning up at your house would be creepy but I just really needed to see you again.”

“Well, creepy would be right,” You feel him tense behind you. “But i’m really fucking glad you decided to be a creeper and turn up at my door.”

He huffs a relieved laugh into your neck and you suddenly really want to see his face. You turn in his arms, the hand on your stomach sliding around your side until it rests against the small of your back. When you meet his eyes, they’ve been swallowed by the black of his pupils and that just sends a jolt right through your body straight to your groin because holy  _ shit _ , this kids really does want you.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, _ really _ glad,” And you finally do what you’ve been wanting to since you first laid eyes on his mouth: close the gap and kiss him. He makes a surprised little sound in the back of his throat and then he’s kissing you back like you’re the air he needs to breath and it's everything you’ve been needing. You’ll worry about the complications later because right now you don’t have the brain capacity to think about anything else but this gorgeous boy kissing you breathless in your kitchen. He crowds you back against the kitchen counter, tea forgotten, and presses himself to your body, shoulder to thigh. Your hands find their way into his hair, thick brown strands between your fingers as you cradle his head in your palms. He fills your senses, igniting a fire in you that you haven’t felt in years. When you gently scrape your nails against his scalp, he makes the most delicious noise, so you keep doing it. Having a 23 year old so responsive under your hands is such a rush that you wonder why you hadn’t just said yes to him the first time he’s asked you out all those months ago.

Eventually you have to come up for air and he rests his forehead against yours, panting a little, his lips pink and kiss swollen.

“Do you have  _ any _ idea what you do to me?” He whispers, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Why, what would you  _ like _ me to do to you?” 

He makes a strangled sound and surges forward to kiss you again, only this time it's full of heat and promise and Jesus C _ hrist  _ you want everything he’s offering. His hands are under your hoodie again, desperate for any skin that he can get his hands on. You tighten your fingers in his hair and the groan you’re rewarded with just does all kinds of things to you, heat pooling in the pit of your stomach. You want him to make that noise again, as well as a fuck ton of other noises too.

“Fuck the tea,” You gasp when you manage to come up for air. “Get up those stairs right now or so help me…..”

He doesn’t need to be told twice and he turns, grabs your hand, and pulls you across the kitchen towards hallway and the stairs.

This kid is going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it, but what a fucking way to go.


	2. Good Morning Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its the morning after and you're trying not to freak out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't even supposed to be a thing, but i found myself writing it at 7am on a Sunday morning anyway because fml....

You blink awake in the morning, sleep still tugging at your senses, and you feel sated and sore. It takes a few moments for your brain to start firing up so for a delicious few minutes you don’t remember the events of the previous day and just bask in how surprisingly good you feel. Movement to your left brings your brain screeching back on line and you turn slowly to see where the movement came from and time stutters to a halt. Tom is lying there, fast asleep, sprawled on his side, face mashed into the pillow and looking more angelic that any human being has a right to be at 7am. The sheets are clinging to his hips which means there are acres of smooth, golden unblemished skin on show and you want to reach out and touch. His muscles are soft in sleep, but definitely there, and you hadn’t been shy about mapping them all last night with your tongue (seriously, how does a 23 year old have muscles like  _ that _ ?!). Even with his hair sticking up all over the place in a riot of brunette curls and his face half hidden he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in years. 

And he’s in  _ your _ bed, in  _ your _ house after fucking  _ your _ brains out last night.

Oh god…..

The flush that races through your entire body makes your skin feel like it’s on fire as your brain supplies flashes of everything that happened last night after you’d ordered him upstairs to your bed. His hands all over your body lighting you up in ways you never thought possible. The feel of his skin against yours, hot and taut. His clever fingers slowing taking you apart. His mouth worshipping every inch of you that he could reach. The hours spent slowly taking you apart like you were the most precious thing in his world.

Oh  _ god _ …..

You feel simultaneously embarrassed, shocked and smug as fuck all at the same time and you think you’d probably be quite happy to lie and stare at him for the rest of the day. God, he’s so pretty it physically pains you. You roll over onto your side so that you can watch him like a creeper, tucking your hands under the pillow and settle in for however long you have until he wakes up and you have to deal with the fallout of what happened last night. 

And just  _ how _ are you going to deal with it? You could brush it off as a one time thing, and maybe that’s what it’ll be for him, just a one off to get it out of his system. You don’t want to think about how that will sting if it’s true because those are  _ feelings _ and you don’t have those, remember? And you’re not looking for anything serious because you just don’t have the time thanks to the café taking up most of your life, and why are you even thinking about anything like that? That’s not what this is, whatever _ this _ is, so you need to stop thinking about it. Why can’t you just live in the moment? Just enjoy having this beautiful young thing in your bed and between your thighs? Stop thinking about it so hard before you hurt yourself.

He stirs a little in his sleep and burrows further into the pillow and making little snuffling noises, and he’s so obnoxiously adorable it’s annoying. Half of you wants to wake him up and find out if he regrets what happened, but the other half wants him to stay asleep so you never have to watch him realise that it was all a mistake. You’re not sure that you ever want to see what that looks like on his face.

“Why are you thinking so loud?” The muffled words startle you out of your overthinking and your eyes dart up to where his face is hidden by his hair and the pillow. He slowly emerges, sleep rumpled and oh so pretty, flopping over onto his back and staring at the ceiling. He blinks a few times to try and shake off the last of the sleep and you watch as his mouth starts to curve up at the corners into a sleepy grin.

“What’s with the grin?” You ask, relieved that he doesn’t seem to be bolting for the door just yet. In fact, he reaches out towards you with an arm to wriggle under the pillows to find your hand and lace your fingers together.

“Oh nothin’,” He smiles at the ceiling giving your hand a squeeze. “Just basking in how sore I am from last night and remembering why. I got to take a super hot woman to bed and show her a good time. She’s pretty great actually, and I’m hoping that she wants to do it again soon.”

The laugh that comes out of you is too loud for this early in the morning but you can’t help it because damn is he smooth. And you can feel yourself relax because he’s not running and he’s not letting you down gently. You have no idea why he’s so into you, but for now you’re just happy to go with it and see where it heads.

“Oh yeah? She sounds cool, you’re a lucky boy.”

“Yeah I am,” He stretches and rolls over to face you, all sleepy eyes and lazy smile. “I’m hoping that I'll keep being lucky for as long as I can get away with actually. I should probably talk to her about it.”

“Hmm, probably. But if she’s as cool as you say she is, I’m sure she’ll be more than OK with you sticking around to try your luck,” You can’t help the soft smile as you look at him, and you know you shouldn’t be feeling things for this kid but so help you…..

“You think?” He asks and there’s hope in his voice and in his eyes and you’re so soft on him you should be worried but you’re really not. Yes, he’s young, but he’s an adult and he can make his own choices. “I’d really like that because I’m not done showing her how much I like her. Did i tell you how hot she is? Because  _ damn _ ….”

“Tom….” You grin and he pulls you towards him so he can wrap himself around you and you go, wriggling in under his arm and plastering yourself against him and tucking your face under his chin so you can breath him in. He’s solid and safe and you find yourself wanting him to stick around, wanting to experience all sorts of things with him, have him in your bed and in your life. He huffs a chuckle against the top of your head and you burrow a little closer, tucked in with him surrounding you, filling your senses.

“Do you have to go to work today?” He asks as he runs his fingers through your hair, something that is guaranteed to render you speechless in an instant. So much so that you can’t quite bring yourself to care that you should have been at the café an hour ago. “Because I kind of might have asked Claire yesterday if she’d mind if i kidnapped you again today. Please don’t be mad. I wasn’t presuming anything, I just wanted to take you out again and when I get nervous I get word vomit and I…..”

He doesn’t get any further because you take the chance to kiss him senseless to make him shut up, and to show him that it’s more than OK because the last thing you want to do right now is to get out of bed and go to work. Claire and Ben are more than capable of handling things on their own. Besides, you’re the boss so you should be able to take a spontaneous day off when you want to. His hand tightens in your hair and he wraps himself further around you, like he can’t seem to get close enough despite being skin on skin, and god that’s just…..yeah.

“I take that as a yes, that's OK then,” He huffs out a laugh when you finally break apart, and you nip at his lips because you find yourself unable to get enough of this kid now that you have him.

“I know I should be mad,” You say between kisses, and he gives them eagerly. “But i’m struggling to care right now if I’m honest because there’s a super cute naked boy in my bed demanding attention.”

“Super cute huh?” He grins at you, eyelids heavy and lips plump and pink. 

“Adorable actually. And infuriating, and sweet, and funny ...” He cuts you off with more heated kisses, his hand wandering from your hair to the skin of your back as he seeks out more skin contact. His hand slides down to your thigh so that he can hitch it up and hook it over his hip which tilts you just so and  _ HELLO _ , good morning sunshine.

“I would ask you to carry on because my ego is loving the boost,” He says breathlessly as he rocks against you. “But first i’m going to fuck you into this mattress, again, and then i’m going to take you out for breakfast.”

And so help you, you’re not going to argue with that.


	3. >> messages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's on a different continent and you miss his stupid face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently i'm still not done with this stupid thing.
> 
> Aslso, the formatting for this bit is all over the fucking place and i can't seem to fix it so soz about that.

>> _ wotcha doin? Xxxxxx_

> << _ Working. Which is what you should be doing too. Don’t you have lines to learn or something? _

_ >> im bored xxx_

> _ <<Hello Bored, i’m Dad. _

_ >> nerd xxxxxx _

It’s been a couple of months now since _ That Night _ and Tom shows no signs of losing interest, which of course you’re unbearably smug about. But this is the first time that you haven’t seen each other for more than a couple of days and you’ve had to admit to yourself that you miss him. A lot.

It was never a secret what he did for a living, you knew who he was as soon as he’d walked into your café that very first time. It wasn’t something you gave a second thought to because it didn’t matter. But know there’s this..._ thing _ going on between you, it means that you’ve had to address the fact that he’s one of the most recognisable faces on the planet. It kinda sucks really if you’re being honest, because it means that you have to share him with the world. And right now he’s god knows where in the US (he wasn’t allowed to tell you. Thanks Marvel) filming something and he’s been gone for nearly 4 weeks. He’s now been away for longer that you’d both started whatever this thing is, and you miss his stupid baby face, and the way his eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles, and his stupid smile and his stupid hair and….. _ URGH _.

So you’ve been making do with Whatsapp and Facetime when he can, which is better than nothing, but not the same at all. Strangely though, you’re finding it easier to be more honest about your feelings by text than it is face to face, so you’ve been letting little things slip out that you wouldn’t normally say in person. He hasn’t called you out on any of it yet, so he must be OK with it. 

> << When are you coming home Kiddo?

>> 4 days. why, u miss me? :) 

> << Maybe.

>> awwww :):):) 

* * * * * * * * *

You’re in the middle of changing your bedsheets a few nights later when your phone rings. Changing a king size bed on your own is never an easy task, and you’re trying to get the damn duvet in the duvet cover and answer the phone at the same time, so it can’t be held against you if you sound a bit breathless when you finally manage to hit answer without looking.

“What?”

“Wow, ok. Hello to you too gorgeous,” Tom is laughing on the other end of the phone and god it’s such a good sound. “Dare I ask what you’re doing? It sounds dirty, lemme see….” Two seconds later and the laugh gets even louder as he switches to Facetime and gets an excellent view of your chin. “Babe, what the fuck are you doing?!”

“Trying to change my bedsheets,” You groan and admit defeat now that you have a distraction. You throw yourself down face first on the half made bed and finally get to look at him when you prop yourself up on your elbows and hold your phone out in front of you. He looks unbelievably good with his hair all wild and curly (your favourite kind of Tom hair) and sleepy, chocolate brown eyes that are crinkled at the edges as he grins at you. He’s been out in the sun again too because his skin has taken on that wonderful caramel colour you like so much. You’re well aware that you must look red and flustered, but he doesn’t seem to care. “Why are you calling me so early? It must be like… 3am where you are.”

“2am actually,” He yawns, and he sounds tired. “Just finished shooting for the day. I wanted to see your face before I crash out. I miss you.”

“Aww, you miss lil’old me?” You battle the blush that you can feel creeping up your neck, but thankfully, being flustered from the sheet changing is covering it up. “Sweet talker.”

“Is it working?” 

“A bit,” You sigh as you watch him yawn again, this one threatening to crack his face in half. “You need to be asleep. Go to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah….” He mumbles and brings up a hand to rub his eyes. “Can I come see you after I land in 2 days?”

“Shouldn’t you go and do family stuff first?” You want to make sure that he gets all the important things done before he even thinks about seeing you. He’s close to his family, as well as his friends, and he needs to go and do that first. You’ve waited nearly a month, you can wait a few more days. 

“Yeah, but I want to see you,” He pouts and you waver a little because _ damn _, look at that face. “Can’t I just come straight to your place?”

“No sweetheart, you can’t,” You stand firm and his pout gets worse. “Go and spend time with everyone, they miss you too y’know. I’m not going anywhere anyway.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” And you do promise. You’ll wait as long as you have to and fucking hell, when did your life turn into some trashy romance novel? “Now go to bed.”

“OK,” His voice has gone all small like it does whenever he doesn’t get what he wants and it shouldn’t be cute but it really is. “Night gorgeous.”

“Night Kiddo.”

>> pleeeeeeeease???? Xxxxx 

> << Go to bed.

* * * * * * * * *

It’s 4am when your phone beeps in quick succession and you’re sure you’d switched it off before you went to bed. You fumble a hand out from under the duvet in the general direction of your phone, drop it on the floor, swear, manages to find it again and try to blink away the sleep from your eyes enough to be able to see who dared to message you at 4am.

>> im drnk :)))))))

>>DRNK N UR NOT HRE

>>y rnt u here??????

>> miss u :(

>> miss ur face

>> miss ur boobs. U boobs r greeeeeat xxxxxxx

>> xxxxxxxxxx 

It’s _ WAY _ too early for this…. 

>> whr r u?

>>do u hte me?

>>u sleping?

>>sry 

> <<Its 4am

>> omg

>> im so sry bby :( :(

>> mis u 

It’s actually impossible to stay mad at that kid, even if it is 4am and you didn’t get to bed until nearly midnight because the toilet in the café had got blocked and you’d had to get an emergency plumber out after you closed. Then you’d had a shit ton of paperwork to get done, fell asleep in the bath, then finally crashed out. 

> <<Miss you too Kiddo. And your stupid face.

>> rly? U lk mai fce? :):):):):) 

> << It’s one of my favourite faces. I miss kissing it.

>> jsoo[wnf ojq[pmvneow

>>sry. U make me fell all fuuny

> << Pretty sure that’s the booze doing that.

>> WRONG ITS U

>>sry shootin

>>s h o u t i n g 

> <<Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep before your flight?

>> yeh

>> but mis u 

> << I know. Go to bed. I’ll see you in a few days.

>> prmisE??????? 

> << Pinky swear promise

>> YYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

* * * * * * * * *

>> i think i’m dying 

> << Hangover much?

>> oh god….. I’M NEVER DRINKING AGAIN. EVER

> << Probably a good idea tbh.

>> i’m so sorry i text you at stupid o’clock 

> << Don’t worry. You can make it up to me when i see you.

>> i can do that! 

>> gotta go board.

>> i really do miss u tho xxxxxxx 

> << I know :) Go get on that plane Kiddo.

>> see u on the other side gorgeous. if my head doesn’t explode on the flight. 

> << Please don’t die! :(

>> i’ll try my best!

>> xxxxxxxx

* * * * * * * * *

>> HELLOOOOOOOOOO HEATHROW!! 

> << YAY! Welcome home handsome! 

>> i want to come see u :( 

> << We’ve had this discussion already. Go be with your family. I can wait.

>> what if i can’t? 

> << Then it sucks to be you.

>> MEAN :(:(:( 

> << Damn right. Go see the Fam, get some sleep and i’ll see you in a few days.

>> ok. 

> << Glad you’re home Kiddo.

>> me too xxxxxx


	4. Mills & Boon Who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home again, home again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i'm still writing this nonsense? Why?! WHHYY?!
> 
> Unbeta'd.

Twenty four hours later and you’re starting to wish that you hadn't told Tom to spend time with his family and friends before he can see you. Four weeks is a long time to have to make do with only phone calls, but you needed to be the adult and make sure that he doesn’t put you before anyone else. It’s all very new, and you’re not even really sure what  _ this _ is yet really. His family are too important to him to take a back seat after he’s been away for so long, it wouldn’t be fair. But it doesn’t mean that you don’t wish he was here already. Maybe next time it won’t be so long.

Wait ...next time? Fucking hell woman, you’ve known each other on this level for what, just under 2 months? There might not even be a next time. Spending time apart from someone can play strange mind games and build something, or someone, up to be something they’re not. You can start to project things onto the person, things that you want or need, which can end badly when that person turns out to not be like that at all. 

Thankfully, work has been crazy busy since he’s been gone, and you’ve been so bone tired whenever you’ve eventually fallen into bed that you’ve not a lot of time to dwell on everything too much. Of course he’s been filling your mind relentlessly whenever you get a spare minute to breathe, but being busy has meant you haven’t had the time to think too far ahead. You also refuse to think any further ahead than when he gets home, because you’re not ready to address your feelings about him just yet, or how much he’s actually managed to wheedle his way under your skin and into your life.

You’ve been home all of half an hour and have got as far as getting changed out of your work clothes and into your Captain America onesie before you run a bath, when your doorbell rings. Giving your bath bomb and huge glass of red wine a fleeting, wistful look, you go downstairs and open the door. You barely have time to register the flash of unruly brunette curls before you’re lifted off the ground and kissed to within an inch of your life. Your legs reflexively wrap themselves around his waist, your arms around his neck, and once your brain gets back online, you’re kissing him back as though your life depends on it. Your front door is still wide open, but you couldn’t give a fuck who sees the two of you because every one of your senses is suddenly full of him and it’s the best fucking feeling ever. He’s got one arm wrapped around you as if he’s scared you’re going to run away, and his other hand is fisted in your hair holding you there so he can kiss you like you’re his reason for living.

“ _ Fuck  _ i missed you,” Tom gasps when he finally pulls away for air, his arm still firm a round you, but the hand in your hair softens a little. He pulls back far enough to be able to look in your eyes and you didn’t realise just how much you’d missed looking at him.

“What are you  _ doing _ here?” You ask, although you’re not mad, just surprised. “I told you to go be with your family.”

“I know, but I missed you too much,” He admits and looks sheepish. “They’re cool though, they get it. We had lunch together when I got home, then I came straight here. I didn’t want to miss another day of being able to be with you.”

“Oh my  _ god _ , you’re such a soppy twat!” You laugh at that because this kid.  _ This. Fucking. Kid.  _ He continues to surprise you in the best ways. “Mills and Boon who?”

“What’s Mills and Boon?” He looks confused, which makes you laugh more, which makes him smile, so then you have to kiss the smile off his face. He kicks the front door shut with his foot and it slams closed as he turns to back you against the wall in the hallway, the brickwork taking some of your weight. And isn't that something that he's been holding up your entire body weight for about 10 minutes.  _ Damn _ . Now that he has you propped up against the wall with your legs still wrapped around his waist, he has the leverage to lean back a bit so he can get a good look at you. "What the  _ hell  _ are you wearing?!"

Oh yeah, that.

"In my defence, I wasn't expecting my friendly neighbourhood Spiderman to randomly just turn up on my doorstep this evening," What? You love this onesie, and even though you had kind of hoped he might just show up, you weren't actually expecting it. "And anyway, I was about to have a bath."

"A bath huh?" And before you can say any more, he gets both hands under your thighs, lifts you off the wall and heads for the stairs. You squeak in delight as he makes short work of heading upstairs and god if that’s not doing all kinds of things for you. You make your feelings known by nuzzling the skin of his neck, something you know he loves. The noise and full body shiver you get in return is exquisite. God, _ this kid….  _ He pauses at the top of the stairs, looks at the bathroom, then at the bedroom like he can’t decide which is the best option. You’re sure you must be getting heavy by now, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“What?” You ask when he doesn’t make a move towards either door, and you leave his neck alone for a moment so you can pull back a little and see his face. He looks torn.

“I just…..,” And he’s blushing, which is weird considering how much you two have already done together. He looks…..embarrassed. He opens his mouth to say something then closes it again.

“Tom……”

“I just… it's going to sound weird, and you probably don’t want to, but…”

“Try me.”

“Can...can we just…I want...,” He’s getting there so you give him a quick kiss to encourage him. “Can we just...cuddle for a bit please?”  _ That’s _ what he’s been so embarrassed to ask? You must look surprised because his blush gets even deeper and he can’t look at you. “It’s OK, we don’t have to. It’s a weird thing to ask. It’s cool.”

“Babe, look at me,” You say to him softly, and unwrap you arms and legs from around him so you can put your feet on the floor. You put a hand on his cheek and use your other hand to find his so you can lace your fingers together. He does eventually look at you so you give him another small kiss for that. “We can do whatever you want. You want cuddles, i’ll snuggle the fuck outta you. Come on…”

You give his hand a little tug so he’ll follow you to the bedroom and he follows looking relieved. Once at the bed, you let go of his hand so that you can arrange all the pillows how you want them then get comfortable before making grabby hand towards him. He gives you one of those smiles that you know only you get to see, and then your arms are full of him. He wraps himself around you, tucking his face into the crook of your neck, and once he’s where he wants to be, you pull him even closer into your arms and he just slots in like he was meant to be there. He huffs out a sigh of contentment and you can’t resist his riot of brown curls anymore so bury a hand in his hair and start carding your fingers through it. The fingers of your other hand start tracing patterns on the skin of those delicious forearms, and you hook your thigh over his hips so that you’re wrapped around him as much as possible. This is…..this is pretty fucking awesome actually. And completely unexpected. This is something much more than what this  _ thing _ has been between you so far. This is…intimate, closeness rather than physicality. 

“You smell good,” His voice is muffled against the skin of your neck and you have to laugh because you know you smell of coffee, sweat, a days cake baking and toasted panini. You stink. “Shuddup, y’do.”

“If you say so. If you’d left it an hour before charging round here, I would have had a bath,” You chuckle and you can feel him smiling. 

“I like your stink. I missed it,” He finally pulls back just far enough to be able to see your face. “I missed your face too.” He kisses the end of your nose. “And your lips.” A small kiss to your mouth. “All of you really.”

“When did you become such a hopeless romantic?”

“Since i met you,” And wow, that’s some raw honesty. You’re searching his eyes, and you find nothing but the honest truth there. Unless you’re much mistaken, he’s got it bad. You’re not sure what to do with that information because if you had to admit it, you know you’ve been keeping a lid on your feelings because you weren’t really sure where this was heading. You still don’t, but god it’s a relief to know that this is not a brief fling for him. 

“Idiot,” And you have to kiss him then because if you don’t, you might say things that you’re nowhere near ready to say yet. The kiss is lazy and soft, Tom apparently more than happy to just...be for a while. You’re not sure how long it goes on like that but he eventually pulls away for a jaw cracking yawn.

“Oh i’m sorry, am I boring you?” You chuckle and he actually looks exhausted. He’s probably been awake for over 24 hours by now, so being this relaxed has probably kickstarted his jet lag. “You need to sleep? Because we can do that too.”

“Don’wanna,” He mumbles before burying his head back in your neck. “Wanna stay ‘wake an’do stuff to you.”

“Well, how could a girl possible resist that sort of chat up line,” And your chuckle becomes a laugh which gets you a huff because you keep moving. He wraps all his limbs around you like an octopus, which just makes you laugh harder. Eventually he just kisses you, which soon shuts you up. When he pulls away, his eye crinkles are back as he smiles lazily at you. “Seriously though, we can just sleep. You look absolutely knackered.”

On cue, another jaw cracking yawn takes him by surprise and he pouts at you, his eyes slowly drooping closed. Yeah, he’s exhausted. He protests weakly as you roll him over onto his back and start tugging at his shirt which you manage to get off. His socks and jeans swiftly follow before you coax him to get under the duvet. He whines at you, trying to pull you in with him but you promise you’ll be right back. That gets another pout, so you make quick work of shutting up the house for the night, and it’s not long before you quietly strip off and slip into bed next to him. It’s your turn to be the big spoon and you slide an arm under his shoulders and scoop him back towards you, front to back. He hums his approval and tangles your legs together as you brush your lips over the back of his neck. 

“Sleep Kiddo,” You whisper into his skin, breathing in the scent you’ve missed so much, and he’s already asleep in your arms, warm, solid and gorgeous. Your heart is doing weird things in you chest at having this boy back with you and you’re not ready to think about why. For now, you’ll just enjoy the feeling of him back in your arms, the scent of him, and the steady beat of his heart under your hand. 


	5. Toast & Marmalade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're going to have to buy new mugs. 
> 
> But first, you're going to have That Talk.
> 
> And you are definitely NOT 'down with the kids.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, still not done with this garbage, so if you want to see something included, hmu in the comments.

The sound of smashing crockery the next morning has you up out of bed and flying downstairs to the kitchen faster than your brain can wake up enough to realise you’ve done it. Skidding to a halt on the tiles of the kitchen floor, you’re ready to face whatever intruder had made the noise, only to find Tom wearing nothing but his boxers and looking terrified at your dramatic entrance whilst he’s halfway to the remnants of a smashed mug on the floor with a dustpan and brush.

“I was trying to be cute and make you breakfast in bed, sorry.”

You’re honestly so relieved that you haven’t just had to tackle a burglar wearing nothing but your pants that you start laughing. He looks equal parts startled and pouty and how can you be mad when the first person in years to make you breakfast in bed is standing practically naked in your kitchen, all muscles and ruffled morning hair. He could break every mug in your cupboard and you don’t think you’d care much right now. “Watch your feet. Stay there, hang on…” You dash out to the hallway to put on a pair of shoes, then go back to clear up the broken bits of mug so that he doesn’t cut his feet. 

“Thank you,” He grins at you and you wonder how you ever lived without a mostly naked Tom in your kitchen every morning. It’s impossible to resist the urge to kiss his sleepy face, so you don’t, because you can. Your arms go around his neck and you kiss him lazily, morning breath be damned, and you’re starting to think that having your naked chest pressed against his is going to be the only way you can start your mornings from this moment on. He trails his fingers up and down the skin of your back and yeah, this is THE best way to start any morning. And it’s Sunday, which means that the café is closed so you don’t have anywhere else to be but right here. 

“So…,” You say when you finally pull apart but not going far. “You still making breakfast?” He laughs and starts to usher you out of the kitchen, you protest but he wins eventually and you put your hands up in surrender and head to the kitchen door. You can feel him watching you leave so look over your shoulder at him. “You  _ sure _ you want to stay down here and make breakfast or…?”

You squeal as he shoots across the kitchen towards you, which then turns to laughter as he grabs you around the middle and bustles you upstairs. Breakfast can wait. Right now, you’ve got something much more important to do.

* * * * * * * * * *

He does eventually make breakfast, except it’s more like brunch by the time you do. He brings it upstairs after you both showered, this time managing to not break anything, and you eat it sitting cross-legged opposite each other in bed with the tray of food in between you because apparently, neither of you feel like being anywhere else today.

“You wanna talk about last night?” You say around a mouthful of toast. It’s been niggling at you a bit since the previous evening, and you suspect that there’s something more to it being just because he was tired.

“OK, but first you have to tell me what the Cap onesie is all about. I mean, Team Cap, really?” He pouts at you and tries to look annoyed but fails miserably.

“Oh baby, there’s only ever been one Avenger for me since 1986, and that’s Hawkeye,” You say matter-of-factly and he gives you an over exaggerated shocked look. “And he was on Team Cap so….”

“I am both shocked and appalled.”

“Aww, soz Spidey,” You chuckle and shove a slice of toast in his mouth. “Promise you’re my second fave though.” You both end up laughing at that. It’s been no secret since he’s first come into the café that you’ve been a comic book fan since you were a child, and you’re enjoying the cute banter between you both. But you still want to know what all the cuddling was about last night. You’re in no way complaining, far from it. You just want to make sure that you’re both on the same page when it comes to….this.

“So, the cuddling thing,” He starts and you watch the blush slowly start to creep across his beautiful skin. “I just…. I just wanted to be close, y’know? It’s actually really hard to explain? I wasn’t sure that you’d want to. I mean, it’s not something we’ve done, but I wanted to see if this was more than just...just what we were doing before I left. And if you hadn’t wanted to, I could have just blamed it on the hangover and jet lag. Does that make any sense?”

You nod slowly, a soft smile on your lips and you have to reach out to touch him because  _ This. Fucking. Kid. _

“No, i get it,” You say and carefully lean over the tray to give him a quick kiss on the lips. “Intimacy and sex are two different things, and we’ve only been doing the sex bit. Well, so far. And intimacy feels like its ...whats the word...more. Sound about right?”

“Exactly that,” He nods enthusiastically and gives you that special smile of his. “You’re the best snuggler by the way.”

“Sweet talking me again, huh?” You grin at him. “And you can have snuggles whenever you want them. I mean, if you want to keep doing the snuggling thing. Or we can go back to just the not-snuggling other thing.”

“Why? Do you want to? Go back to just doing the non-snuggling other thing?” And he just looks so  _ sad _ . “I’d be happy with just the other thing too, if that’s what you want?”

“NO! I don’t! What I mean is, I don’t want to go back to just being what it was before,” You really need to start using your big girl words woman because holy shit, you really do want this to be more than what it started out as. “_o_ _ _h_mygod _ , i’m a fucking  _ adult _ , I can use better words. Thomas, I don’t want to be just friends who fuck sometimes. I’m down for the snuggling too. But I need to ask you something, OK?

“OK,” And the sad look has gone to be replaced by that goddamn smile that he reserves only for you.

“Wouldn’t you rather do all that stuff with someone nearer your own age?” And you’ve clearly said the wrong thing because now he looks _ pissed.  _ He drops the bit of toast he’s eating back onto the plate on the tray between you both, sucks in a breath and locks his eyes to yours. Oh boy, you’re in trouble now...

“Why do you find it so hard to believe that I like you? Like,  _ really _ like you?”

“Because…..you’re  _ you _ ,” You flail a hand between you both as if that explains things. And oh dear, here comes the word vomit... “Have you even  _ seen _ you?! With the muscles….and the hair…..and...and those  _ cheeks _ ….and the hair...and your dumb smile. And I’m just…..I mean, i’m just  _ not _ .... I’m pushing 40, divorced, my body has already started heading south and I live alone with nothing but Netflix and a comic collection for company. My business sucks up all of my time because if I don’t keep it going, I have nothing. I fall asleep in the bath, permanently smell of toasted cheese sandwiches, and sometimes I get into heated arguments with strangers on the internet about who the best Avenger is. I am punching  _ way _ above my weight here Kiddo, I really am.”

He looks at you like you’re completely mad for thinking that everything you just listed were the crimes of the century. “Why can’t you just accept that fact that I think you’re sick as fuck?”

“Woah, OK. Um...yeah. Thanks for that. I know i’m not exactly the catch of the century but sick? That hurts buddy,  _ jeez _ ….” You lean away feeling stung as hell. You knew it would happen sooner or later, that he would want to walk away, but calling you sick? 

“ _ OH MY GOD _ ….” He clambers over the tray, toast and tea flying everywhere in a bid to stop you from backing away from him any further. He grabs your shoulders and forces you to look at him. Not easy when you can feel tears stinging your eyes. “_S_ _ _i_ck as in awesome! _ Sick as in really fucking cool!”

You fucking  _ dickhead _ . See? Shit like this  _ is why everyone fucking leaves. _

“Oh.”

“Yeah,  _ oh _ ,” He huffs a small laugh and then you’re being pulled into his arms and honestly? You’ve never been so relieved about a misunderstanding in your entire life. You make a mental note to spend a lot more time in the company of Urban Dictionary, and then slump against his chest. “You’re an idiot, you know that right?”

“It has been mentioned before, yes,” You grumble into the curve of his neck and breathe him in. “You’ve got toast stuck to your knee.”

“Don’t care,” He laughs at that, and you can hear the relief in his voice at having diverted a disaster, although the same can’t be said for your bedsheets thanks to him having clambered over the brunch tray. “Just so we’re clear, I want this to be more than just the non-snuggling. And I want it because I’ve never been as attracted to anyone than I am to you. And not just because of your  _ amazing  _ boobs and that thing you can do with your tongue. Those are just an added bonus. I could listen to you talk all day. You make me laugh so hard I can’t breathe. You’re just....I just want to spend as much time as I can with you because...because...because I  _ want _ to. And not just for the not-snuggling stuff. I’d be happy to just watch Netflix in our pyjamas and order pizza if it meant getting to be around you.”

“Ok,” It’s your turn to do the small voice thing now because everything he’s saying is making your chest swell and your eyes prick with tears. You can’t remember the last time anyone wanted to spend time with you just...being. And this kid, this gorgeous, talented, funny, sweet,  _ hot as fuck _ 23 year old wants to do just that. And this is the moment when you realise that you are absolutely and totally gone on this kid. 

“Do you believe me now?”

“You’re still here so I guess so.”

“You’re fucking impossible.” He laughs as the last of any tension drains out of you both. “Now, i’m going fuck up these bedsheets even more by showing you just how serious i am about what I just said.”


	6. Did I Mention That I'm Actually A Hot Mess?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heart Eyes Muthafucker.
> 
> Also, it was bound to happen eventually, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as this trash is not going away, i figured i may as well do some serious projecting of my own issues in this chapter.
> 
> Soz.

Christmas is looming and it’s the time of year that you dread the most. It’s a time for family and frivolity, but you don’t have much of either. You usually end up at Claire’s house on Christmas Day as their Christmas stray. They’re actually the closest thing to a family you have. You and Claire have been more like sisters since you were both at school, and her family have pretty much unofficially adopted you as their second daughter, but you’ve never liked Christmas. And this year, you’re even more gloomy about the impending festive season as now you have Tom in your life, but you’ve not yet met his family, and you’re not even sure what his plans are anyway. Plus, everything is still very new between you, so you’re not sure if you’re at  _ That Point _ yet. Meeting anyone’s family is daunting, but given the age gap between you and Tom, and who he is, the thought of meeting his family makes you instantly break out in a cold sweat. The café is, as always, an excellent excuse to use for getting out of the never ending parade of Christmas parties you get invited to, but you know that you can’t use that as a reason every time he asks you to another one. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to tell him about your crippling social anxiety around people you don’t know in places you’ve never been to before, and that you’d actually rather be at home in bed with a book. 

“I’m starting to think that you don’t want to be seen out with me,” Tom states one evening when you’re sat in his front room watching him pack for his next trip away. Only a week this time, which you’re secretly rather pleased about. 

“What makes you say that?” You tense because you knew it was coming, you just hadn’t planned on it being quite so soon. 

“Because it's a Friday night and we’re in my front room folding my pants,” He puts down the t-shirt he’s currently folding and flops down on the sofa next to you. He bumps your shoulder and god, he looks so worried. And maybe even a little hurt. “Everything OK?”

You sigh, deep and loud, and you promised yourself never to hide anything from this kid, never lie or make things out to be lesser than they really are. That wouldn’t be fair, and it’s exactly why all of your previous relationships had gone to shit. You’ve just always struggled to open up completely to anyone, especially new partners. And that’s what you two are now: partners. You’re too old to be called girlfriend, you’d told him, and Other Half was way too old married couple. Partner was fine. 

OK, you can do this…

“So, super fun fact about me: I’ve had crippling anxiety since I was 16, and I freak the fuck out whenever I meet new people in new places, so I avoid having to,” The words spill out in a rush and you can’t look at him as you say them because you don’t want to see his face when he realises what a hot mess you are, and that he’s made huge mistake being with you. “It sucks. I get panic attacks, I sweat uncontrollably, I get tremors, and blurt out utter nonsense because my brain-to-mouth filter shorts out. I can usually manage to keep a lid on it, but sometimes I end up being a monumental embarrassment to not only myself, but whoever the poor bastard is that asked me out.” You take a moment to suck in a breath, still not looking at him. “I promise though, me not going out anywhere with you isn’t because of you, it really isn't. It’s all me. I’m a weirdo.”

Tom doesn’t say anything for a moment, just leans in a bit closer and seeks out your hand with his own to stop you from picking at your jeans out of nervousness. You listen to the clock on the wall next to you ticking away and try to stop the feeling of dread knotted in your stomach. 

“I’m not going to say that you’re wrong about the weirdo part,” He says softly after a few minutes, and your lips twitch a little in amusement. “I did wonder if it was something like that. Anxiety is a fucking bitch and i’m glad you told me. I thought that maybe it was something I was doing, which is actually really selfish of me.” He shakes his head when you make a noise of protest. “It is though, I know that. But now I know, we can work with it. So how about I take you out for dinner tonight before I have to leave in the morning? Just the two of us?”

“Dinner I can do,” You breathe quietly, relief washing over you at the fact that he’s now angry or disappointed, or even upset. “Dinner I can definitely do.”

* * * * * * * * *

You’re at one of your favourite restaurants, a little Italian place not far from Tom’s place, and it’s just the two of you tucked into a table in the corner just enjoying each other’s company and the amazing food. If there’s one thing guaranteed to make you feel better is food. Add Tom to that mix and it’s a pretty perfect evening. He has this ease about him that makes you feel calm, relaxed. Maybe going out to parties and events with him won’t be as terrifying as you think if this is the effect he has on you. You start to think that maybe if he’s at your side, you could probably conquer anything. And isn’t that something? You’d long since abandoned any thoughts of finding anyone you’d want to share life experiences with, that to suddenly be blindsided by the thoughts and feelings that he brings out of you is…it’s both terrifying and exciting at the same time. 

“Hey gorgeous,” Tom’s voice drags you back to the table and out of your thoughts. “Where’d you go?”

“Just thinkin',” You smile at him. 

“Yeah? About what?” He asks, and reaches across the table to put his hand over yours. 

“Just about this  _ really _ hot boy toy that I'm soft on,” You grin and he laughs.

“Boy toy huh?” His eyes have got that twinkle and his hair is flopping in his eyes and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything as beautiful as this kid. God, you are so gone on him is frightening. “Well, if the look on your face right now is anything to go by, I'd say you’ve got it bad.”

“I think you could be right, actually,” You heart is doing that fluttery thing again and the words are right there on the tip of your tongue, but you’re not ready yet, it’s way too soon. “Sickening, amirite?”

“I think it’s cute,” His eyes are soft and warm and you think you might want to look into them forever. It could be the excellent food, or the exquisite wine, but you’re feeling all kinds mushy about this boy. The guard around your heart is slipping and you find that you don’t actually care. “I hope he treats you like a queen.”

“He does,” You smile at him, linking your fingers together on the table and leaning forwards. “He’s a gentleman where it counts. And an absolute  _ beast _ in the bedroom.” Tom chokes on the mouthful of wine he just took and the laugh-snort noise he makes has you laughing too. You reach forward and wipe the wine on his chin away with your thumb. “To be honest, he’s fucking amazing, I can’t believe my luck. I heart him quite a lot actually.”

“Yeah?” Tom stills and looks you in the eye with what looks like a little surprise, as well as hope. His fingers tighten around yours briefly.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Because i’m pretty sure that he hearts you quite a lot too.”

* * * * * * * * *

It had been such a perfect night you could cry. After dinner, you’d walked back to Tom’s place the long way round which took you down quiet tree lined streets, some already wrapped in festive fairy lights despite it only being mid-November. You were as close to each other as possible whilst walking, you arm though his and shoulders seemingly glued together. He’d stop every now and then to kiss you, seemingly unable to go more than a few metres without needing to kiss you again. You’d both bundled up against the November night and it was just all so disgustingly romantic.

This morning had burst that bubble in spectacular fashion.

Claire had sent you a text about an hour ago as you were yawning in Tom’s kitchen at 6am and making coffee to kick start both of you into wakefulness so he could get himself organised before his cab came to take him to the airport.

>>Do NOT look at the internet today. Promise me. Please? Call me later xx

Like you weren’t going to look after she said that. And you had, because of fucking  _ course _ you had. And you really,  _ really _ wished you hadn’t.

> _ **Who Is Is The Mystery Older Woman In Tom’s Arms?** _

> _ **Spiderman Snags Himself A MILF** _

> ** _Cougar Eats Spiderman Alive On Late Night Walk_ **

> _ **Who Is She: Has A Golddigging Cougar Stolen Tom’s Heart As Well As His Wallet?** _

Tom is absolutely fucking furious.

“No, I'm not coming,” He’s pacing his lounge on the phone to his agent, rage in his voice and in his body language. “Did you see what they fucking said!? I’m not leaving her to deal with this alone. Reschedule or delay it a few days.”

You knew it was a risk when this started, but you hadn’t anticipated it stinging quite so much. You’ve got pretty thick skin after nearly 40 years in this world, but apparently it’s not as thick as you thought. When you;d gone back into the bedroom with your phone an hour earlier, Tom had taken one look at your face, snatched your phone from your hands to scroll through the twitter hashtag and gone absolutely berserk. He was immediately on the phone with his agent to cancel the convention he’d been booked at in the US, and now they were arguing about it.

“Tom?” You say, trying to find your voice, but he’s not listening. You try again, louder this time: “Hey, Kiddo?”  He hears you this time and stops pacing to look at you.

“Go,” You say, firm and sure. His reaction had been all you needed to feel brave. “Don’t disappoint them. I’ll be OK.”

“No, I should stay,” He says, still angry as hell. 

“You’ll be letting so many people down if you don’t go,” You’re determined now. He can’t just drop everything, not for you. You’ve been to enough fan conventions to know how shitty it is when a big name has to pull out at the last minute. “You’re important to so many people, and they’re all looking forward to meeting you. Please don’t let them all down because of me, I don’t want to be the one responsible for that.”

“Are you sure?” He looks so uncertain. 

“I’m sure.”

“OK, I’ll be there,” He says into his phone and turns away to start pacing again. “But I'm coming home earlier than planned, OK? Would you be able to sort that out for me? Awesome, I owe you. See you in a couple of hours.”

“Thank you,” You smile sadly at him and he’s immediately at your side on the sofa pulling you into him. 

“For what?”

“For being you.”

“Weirdo,” He huffs at the top of your head as you tuck your face into his neck.

“Idiot.”


	7. That Really Spangled My Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time, he brings a friend. A big, star spangled friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly? I don't even fucking know anymore....

You tried to convince Tom when he left that he didn’t need to cut his trip short just for him, that’d you’d be fine, but he wasn’t having any of it. He’d be back in five days instead of eight and no, there was nothing you could say to change his mind. So he’d left when his cab had arrived, looking at you sadly, his brow knitted with worry, but you’d waved him off telling him to go have a good time. 

Of course, you manage to come down with a stinking cold 48 hours after Tom leaves. Great.

You’re under a blanket two nights before Tom is due home, nose blocked and bright red, voice rough thanks to a cough that won’t  _ fuck off _ , your head hurts and everything is awful. You haven’t been to work for almost 4 days because Claire and Ben had banned you until you weren’t hacking up a lung and blowing your nose constantly. Not to be overly dramatic, but you think you might be dying. You’ve agreed to Facetime Tom tonight, but you look fucking dreadful and you’re not sure you want him to see how much like death you look. But you miss him and if Facetime is all you can have until he’s home, then red, running nose and bloodshot eyes be damned. You go and make yet another Lemsip to drink, down more cough mixture so you can make it through at least two sentences when Tom calls, blow your nose  _ again _ (seriously, how much snot can one human make?!), and get back into your sofa nest to wait. You’re just starting to doze a little to the sounds of whatever crap is on the TV when you’re phone starts blaring the Spiderman theme tune from the 1960’s. 

“Hey gorgeous!” Tom’s face fills the screen and god, he looks so good. His grin soon fades and the look of worry is back as he takes in your red nose, your red, tired eyes and chapped lips. “Wow, you really are sick, huh?”

“I think I'm dying,” You croak out, but smile weakly.

“Please don’t die!” He huffs a laugh. 

“I’m tryin’” He laugh, but not much comes out other than a squeak.

“Aww, when I get back I'll come and look after you,” His eyes soften and he gives you that smile. “Make you chicken noodle soup and clear up all your snotty tissues.”

“You  _ really _ don’t want to do that,” And to prove a point, you have to reach for a tissue and blow your nose again. Tom wrinkles his nose because it sounds gross, but he really does look concerned. “It’s just a cold, i’m fine, promise.”

“Still gonna make you noodle soup though,” And he looks so earnest it makes you grin at him. “So…”

“So.” He looks apprehensive suddenly and you can hear noises in the background behind his phone. It looks like he’s in a hotel room, so it must be the TV.

“So, don’t be mad, but I have someone here who wants to talk to you,” He looks sheepish, nervous even. “I  _ may  _ have told him a bit about what you told me before I left, and I didn’t  _ mean _ to, but I did, but don’t be mad because he’s pretty fucking awesome and he said he wants to help and  _ please _ don’t get cross because I just want to help…” It all comes out in a rush and you’re confused and worried and yeah, a little pissed off all at the same time.

“O….k?” You say, trying not to be angry that he talked to a stranger about you and your anxiety, but you’re not sure you can stay mad at him because you can see how much he cares. Being with someone who has mental health issues is tough, you know that only too well from past experience, but he really is trying to support you anyway he can and it’s actually really sweet of him. 

“Just hear him out, OK? Hang on…” Tom gets up from where he’s sitting in the chair you always get in a hotel room that’s usually tucked under the same, generic hotel desk, and the phone shakes for a few moments as he flops down on the desk and….

“UUrgggkkkkk……” Your phone ends up on the sofa opposite the one you’re currently ensconced in because you’ve thrown it away from you like it was suddenly on fire. You can hear Tom shouting through the phone and there’s laughter too. Yeah, that's…..that was…

Chris fucking  _ Evans _ .

Captain America. Right there. On your phone. Looking right at you. Well actually, he’s currently looking at the intricate weave of your sofa cushions, but seriously? You look like absolute shit and you’re also wearing  _ that _ onesie. 

Fuck your life.

“Babe? Hello?!”

Sighing, you huffle over, pick up your phone and shuffle back to sit down. Taking a deep breath, you turn the phone back around and there they both are, laughing hysterically. 

“I hate you,” You wheeze and a coughing fit wracks your whole body. Wow. Chris Evans is right there and you’re coughing up your insides, face turning red and Captain America onesie in full view.

Seriously,  _ fuck  _ your life.

“Shit, you OK?” Chris asks and they’ve both stopped laughing, instead both looking concerned. You have to blow your nose again and hey, why not go all out to look and sound as awful as possible? 

“Yeah, just dying of man flu,” You croak out when the coughing fit has passed. “Sorry about that. Wasn’t expecting Spiderman to bring  _ his fucking boss.” _

“Maybe I should have warned you,” Tom looks even more sheepish now, an embarrassed blush creeping up his neck. 

“Meh, it’s fine kiddo,” You shrug, but make a mental note to talk about it when he gets home. “Just give me a heads up next time so I can make sure I'm wearing actual grown up clothes.”

“Roger that,” He looks relieved that you’re not more angry, but being so sick has sapped all your energy and honestly, you’re just happy to see him. “I’ll make it up to you, promise. Maybe we could do that thing we talked about, y’know?.”

“ _ Dude _ , save it for later!” Chris chuckles and swats Tom with his hand. 

“Ok, ok ...I need to go shower so you both have a chat,” Tom stands up and moves out of shot, the phone shaking a little as he hands it to Chris. Then suddenly, a mop of brunette hair appears over the top of the phone along with one blurry, close chocolate brown eye. “Be back soon gorgeous.”

“Yeah, yeah…..” You grumble, hear the bathroom door close and suddenly, you’re alone with Chris. 

“So, Tom has told us  _ a lot _ about you, and told a little about your anxiety,” Chris starts. He looks a little awkward, which is adorable given that he’s built like a brick shit house. “I suffer with it pretty bad myself, so I offered to maybe talk with you about how I handle it, see if anything sticks?”

“That ...that actually sounds really lovely,” You say, and he smiles at you. 

“Don’t be mad at him, he’s a good kid,” Chris says with a little smile. “And he really cares about you. I think he’s still feeling really bad about having to leave when the shit hit the fan, and he just wants to help.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s ok,” You sigh and god, your chest sounds awful. “I’m not angry, not really. A bit of warning would have been nice about tonight but fuck it, it’s done now, right?”

“Never heard a human make that noise before when you threw your phone,” And he’s grinning at you now.

“In my defence, I wasn’t expecting a wild Chris Evans to suddenly appear in my living room via the power of the internet so….” 

“Fair point, well argued,” Chris chuckles low and soft and then you both spend the next half hour deep in conversation about your individual anxiety issues and how you both handle it, what works, what doesn’t. Tom comes out of the shower at some point wearing pyjama bottoms and nothing else. He flops down on the bed behind Chris and starts reading a book, not wanting to interrupt. You can tell he’s listening in, of course, and it’s probably important that he hears it. Eventually, a huge yawn takes you by surprise, which sets off another coughing fit, and Tom takes the phone from Chris as a sign that the call should probably finish so that you can go to bed.

“It was really great to finally meet you,” Chris smiles when you stop coughing, and its genuine. “He doesn’t actually shut up about you, it’s frikkin’ adorable.”

“Its all true,” You grin and Tom is blushing furiously now, it’s fucking adorable.

“Well, anytime you want to talk some more about brain shit, Tom has my number,” Chris gives you a thumbs up and holy  _ shit, _ he’s serious. “Just drop me a text or whatever.” He gets up then and is out of shot. “OK buddy, ima head out. See you in the mornin’” An arm comes into shot and he gives Tom a fist bump.

“Laters Cap,” Tom grins.

“Bye!” You manage to call and then you hear the hotel door open and close.

“He’s serious,” Tom nods when he turns back to the phone. “He’s a sweetheart.”

“Holy fucking  _ shit _ …..” 

“I know right?”


	8. *****UPDATE*****

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up for ya'll who are subscribed to this fic.

Just to let ya'll know, NaNoWriMo starts on Friday this week, and i've signed up to it so i'm forced to finish my Stony fic, Delicious.

Wanted to give ya'll a heads up that the updates for this garbage POS will be much less frequent whilst i concentrate on something else.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry. Please don't hate me.


End file.
